Running from the past
by Teh2ndrunner
Summary: Based on the stories written by Shoji Gatoh taking place after Continuing On My Own. Introducing a new character to the FMP world - give it a try! Any constructive criticism is welcome. Knowledge from BOMF and onwards required!
1. Where's the nearest Drink at?

South East Asia - Namsak: 14:43

The town of Namsak, a relatively isolated settlement, in spite of its location, was very much alive. It's main purpose was commercial, as one could witness by simply glancing upon the hundred or so merchants littered around the market place selling their wares. The atmosphere was ambient and jovial, with sellers vehemently crying out reasons for consumers to purchase their goods over competitors from around the world. During the day, these streets were almost always filled with locals from around the settlement, who were busy on the hunt for a bargain.

The buildings and infrastructure of the town didn't exactly make Namsak appear a technological metropolis by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, Namsak was most probably considered heavily backward by western travellers. Although though such misconceptions were made though the naivety of tourists perusing travel agents, one fact was painfully clear about Namsak - that it had a teeming criminal underbelly. Robberies and burglaries were frequent, with occasional rapes and murders. The local police were woefully undermanned to tackle such a vast criminal economy, whilst many honest locals whispered breaths of "corruption" or "convenience" whenever crimes were left unpunished or unsolved. Such glaring faults didn't make Namsak the first place a middle-class family of four would chose for their holiday; nor would it have been the choice for any tourist - even charity workers gave Namsak a wide berth.

"So this is Namsak huh? What a trashcan." One man muttered to himself as he witnessed a shopkeeper dive at a bunch of vagabonds stealing from his stall. He could have helped, but instead, just turned around and casually watched, as many others did. This was clearly an all too frequent occurrence.

"Please help me! Can anyone help stop them! My family will starve if they get away!" The unfortunate vendor cried in a mixture of terror and frustration. This plea was to no avail, as the miscreants escaped into the back alleys, masterfully weaving through any bystanders.

"What seems to be the problem here?" A deep voice inquired from the crowd. The spectators swiftly parted to reveal a grossly overweight man accompanied by two tall, imposing men wearing uniforms.

The recently ruined merchant fell to his knees and pitifully begged the rotund man to pursue the criminals who had stolen his wares. Despite such a heartfelt cry, the fat abomination merely looked on unsympathetically, scathingly inquiring about the identity of the pillagers.

"It was Dao's men! They were staring at my stall the other day and wanted my merchandise! There are witnesses!" The desperate merchant spluttered.

"Witnesses you say?"

"Y-yes! Yes of course! All of these people…"

Before the broken seller could finish his sentence, the rotund policeman turned to face the spectators of the crime, shoved his podgy fist in the air, and then shouted in a bellowing voice: "Did any of you see any illegal acts of robbery here?" His disgusting face was distorted into a frown, as if to dare any onlookers to come forward.

As the brute had expected, the crowd remained silent while some walked away, averting their eyes. The disdainful observer was among those that remained. He too stayed silent, assessing the situation and thinking of its implications. After all, he had just arrived, and needed to understand the local environment if he wanted to enjoy a relatively quiet life. It was obvious that criminals were running the police force. Murmurs of corruption were clearly well based, but were all too silent. It seemed this had been happening for a long time.

"This fat clown with a pug-nose and putrid face is the image of Namsak's law enforcement? Fitting if you ask me." The cynical onlooker muttered, to the amusement of those close to him.

"Did I hear someone giggle?" Growled the pyramid shaped officer. The timid spectators moved aside to reveal a man wearing a worn, umber-brown duster coat which brushed the ground and was buttoned up at the top, partially covering his face. His messy, medium length hair was of a similar colour to his coat.

"Well lookie here boys, a guy who thinks he's John Wayne!" Gleefully jeered the tubby chief, accompanied latter by his two oafish colleagues, who forced out hearty laughs. The three then stared menacingly at the calm cynic, who reciprocated by glaring back with his pale blue eyes, which appeared to critically observe and evaluate the situation.

"Gonna stay silent for long?" One of the taller policemen joked.

"Well…" The Crowd gasped, as the unknown traveller spoke up - almost with an air of anticipation - would he be foolish enough to confront the Namsak Police?

"Well what?" The irritated fat man shouted.

"Well… I was just wondering…"

"Speak up!"

"…was just wondering… where the nearest bar was."

The policemen stood collectively silent, dumbstruck with this response.

"Since the three of you appear to be fine officers, could you help a newcomer to these parts and kindly direct me to the nearest inn, tavern, or whatever you call it around here?"

"B-bullshit! You didn't say that! Why were all these people laughing?" The incredulous officer responded.

"Hmm, they musta thought it was a bad joke…" The newcomer said in a dead-pan tone.

"You think you're funny?"

"No, I _know_ I'm thirsty for a drink… and not the soft kind either."

"We don't have time answering such a question. I should arrest you for interrupting police business!"

"…so you don't know where the nearest drink is…" The rugged man said with disappointment. "Oh well, hope you catch those criminals. Goodbye."

Before the corrupt brigade could chase him after such a comment, he disappeared into the stream of people wandering around the marketplace.

That wasn't the wisest thing to have said. His card was now marked by that tub of lard and his department. The daring cynic sighed to himself. He really should have helped that poor merchant, but had no feeling of regret for not doing so. Instead he felt content with making a snide remark and slipping away into the shadows. Of course, that's what must be done for a quiet life - he had made the correct choice - pragmatically speaking. There was only so much one man could do, and he had done more than most in his lifetime….

The day pressed on, and without getting involved in trouble, this cynical traveller finally arrived at the only bar which looked passable in this so called trashcan. The building was old and had clearly seen its fair share of violence. Bullet marks scarred the outside walls and many tiles from the roof were missing - a sign that the owner thought little good would come of maintenance - probably a good decision. The inn was given the glorious name of 'The Castle', and was the best shot at a bar the weary traveller had seen in Namsak.

As he walked up to the bar and beckoned the barman over to serve him, he overheard a few patrons mention something about a merchant who had been robbed in the afternoon and how some random person mouthed off to 'the Chief'.

"Great, I'm already a local legend. So much for the quiet life."

"Stop talking to yourself and order a damned drink already." The barman chided.

"I'll take a double whiskey straight and a night here if you've got a room."

"Whatever you say stranger. Although this isn't the fanciest joint in the world."

"The bullet holes in the bar show as much."

"Goddamn comedian. You got a name?"

"It's Jack Wayne."


	2. Can't a man drink in peace?

Namsak, The Castle: 22:08

Throughout the evening the inn filled up with people dying for a drink. It certainly was unusually busy, even the barman looked amazed at the number of thirsty customers.

"So much for a peaceful life." Jack grumbled to himself

"You're certainly a barrel of fun." The barman said, as he rushed to serve a nagging patron.

"Give me a break! Can't a man just jump into a bottle for the evening without being reprimanded for it?"

Jack's mood wasn't improved as the already noisy inn was struck by a great din when a group of men accompanied by a young girl stormed into the bar cheering and gloating about a victory of theirs in 'The Arena'.

"Hey, isn't that Nami?" The bartender smirked. "She gets cuter every day."

Jack couldn't care less about some adolescent girl, no matter how attractive she was. Alcohol seemed to make him more irritable as opposed to flirtatious. Just as he turned back to his whiskey, one of the men from the energetic group jostled past him to get to the bar.

"Out of the way stranger, got a big order to place."

"Be nice about it and I might just oblige."

"Hey hotshot, why don't you stop trying to act all cool and move it. These men are worn out from working on a new AS at the arena, and deserve a large celebration after a stunning victory."

Jack turned to face the unwelcome interruption to his drink. The man had greyish hair which was slicked back, giving him the appearance of an old man at first glance, but it was clear he was only in his early twenties from his face and attitude.

"Quid pro quo stranger."

"Qu-i p-ro…what!"

"It's Latin, means that if you do something for me, I'll return the favour."

"Smartass."

"Listen, if you just tell me what this 'Arena' is I'll let you through without making you ask nicely."

"Ha, you think you're pretty tough huh? Well it's no skin off my nose to tell you about the Arena, although you must have had your head buried under the sand to not know about it. It's where ASes fight one on one without weapons - hand to hand."

"Oh, so you and your friends here just won a match. What's your name? Are you the big shot team leader?"

"The name's Ash, but sadly I'm not the leader, just the head mechanic who works on keeping the AS functional.

"This guy here," he said, grabbing a tall, fair haired man from behind "is our leader…or at least manager ever since he had the cash to pay for the AS parts we needed."

"Stop pulling so hard." The tall Caucasian moaned, turning around to reveal that he was wearing a set of round spectacles.

"Sorry," Ash said disingenuously. "Was just introducing our team manager to this guy here," waving his hand at Jack.

"Oh right! Well, I'm Michael Lemon…Wait, are the two of you even friends! And Ash, weren't you getting the drinks?"

"Calm down Lemon, the bar's not closing in the next few minutes!" Ash snapped.

"Since you told me about the Arena, I'll move outta your way," Jack interjected, not wanting to be part of a dispute which resembled a marital disagreement.

As he got up and walked away from the bar, the gathering of AS fanatics began chanting "Crossbow! Crossbow!" as the meek looking Lemon began passing the drinks around. Surprisingly there was one man in the crowd who had taken on a more sullen appearance. He looked Asian, was about 5'9 tall, and had hair of a similar length and colour to Jack's. However, his eyes couldn't be more different, being far deeper, darker, and mysterious. They were the kind of eyes a well trained dog who could kill three men by itself. Eyes of loyalty and power.

"Christ, what am I doing staring at some dullard in the corner of the bar?" Jack muttered incredulously to himself as he sat down at a table. There were two other men sitting on the next table. They too seemed to be in deep discussion about the Arena. At least they were talking quietly, Jack thought to himself as he took a long awaited swig of his beverage.

His peace wasn't long-lived, as only a few minutes later one of the Arena obsessed men moved to sit opposite Jack.

"Are those people from the Crossbow AS team friends of yours?"

"No, why should you care anyway?"

"Well…I saw you talking to two of their team. Heard they upset quite a few people at the Arena who placed good money on Dao's M6. Turns out that kid who's sitting down with a nonchalant look on his face was the pilot. Also heard that he was piloting a shitty, banged up savage but still managed to take down Dao's machine without breaking a sweat."

Jack's ears pricked up at Dao's name. "Who's this Dao guy? I've heard his name mentioned elsewhere, and it wasn't in a good way."

"That's why I was asking about those friends o' yours. If it turned out you were friendly with 'em, Dao's men may just come looking for ya. I was just being a good Samaritan by telling you. Just make sure to stay outta Dao's business and it's likely you'll have a semi-decent life around here."

"How noble of you."

"Your welcome, smartass." The stranger replied as he got up and walked back to his friend.

Jack probably shouldn't have spurned such information sarcastically, but it was his way of dealing with people. He never liked to show too much interest as it drew too much attention. On the other hand, defeating an M6 with a banged up AS Savage wasn't something which happened everyday. Jack glanced back over at the lonesome AS pilot that had supposedly beat Dao without bating an eyelid. The dark pilot was in conversation with that adolescent girl Nami the bartender had mentioned.

"I'm sure I'll be a welcome third wheel to that little romance." Jack smirked to himself as he drifted towards where the two were sat, dodging the throng of celebration on the way. As Jack moved closer, he could see the dark haired pilot become increasingly uneasy, as if to detect an alien presence was approaching. The young girl sitting next to him, sensing his anxiety, looked up as well.

"Hey what do ya want?" The pretty adolescent curiously said. "You're not one of Dao's goons are you?"

Jack paused for a moment. It wasn't a surprise that the bartender remembered this girl. Her fiery coloured hair framed a well-shaped and impressively blemish free face. Her physique was well filled out too. She was clearly on the cusp of womanhood. It was certainly fortuitous that Jack was no sucker for a pretty face.

"Evening you two." Jack began, "I heard from a few friends of mine that you took down Dao's M6 with some old banger. It true?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Who the hell do ya think?" Jack said, irritated at such a banal retort.

"Oh look, a comedian."

"You'd be taken aback with how many people have said that to me recently."

"Probably not."

Dispensing with this small talk which was gaining him no ground, Jack turned to the grumpy looking pilot.

"Hey Pilot, I hear you did quite the number on Dao's machine. You got a name?"

The silent AS pilot adjusted his head and stared into Jack's eyes, as if to gauge whether he was friend or foe. After a staring contest that seemed to last minutes, the silence was broken.

"My name is Sousuke Sagara, and it's true about Dao. He was an unskilled pilot who was ignorant of his own M6's limitations."

"Seems the case. Do either of you know more about this Dao? I hear he's quite the criminal hotshot around here."

"He's nothing more than a murderer and a thief!" Nami said in a bitter tone. "He just killing anyone who tries to stop him from either having fun or making a dirty profit. Like Rick, who was our AS pilot before Dao stabbed him to death!"

"Ironic that Rick's death brought you a better pilot then."

"Hey don't say things like that…"

So Dao was just some petty gang lord. Seemed odd that those officers from earlier turned a blind eye to his men's actions. If the bloated chief's diet and exercise regime was anything to judge them by, it was probably out of pure laziness.

"Who are you then? It's rude not to introduce yourself!"

"Jack Wayne. I'm new to these parts, was thinking of relocating here."

"What a lousy choice."

"I'm beginning to agree with you on that one."

They were interrupted by an intoxicated Lemon who began some kind of incoherent spluttering about Nami's measurements. He hadn't even drunk that much.

"Measure away Monsieur!" Nami provocatively said.

"Think I'll be off. Thanks for ruining our chat Monsieur Lecher."

"You're full of charm aren't you!" Nami shouted after him.

Jack turned around and made his way for the bar. The barman looked shocked when Jack reasserted his interest in staying the night if not slightly relived that he had the excuse to stop serving drunkards for a few precious moments. The bleak and grungy inn wasn't exactly a sight for sore eyes. Staring at it all day must have been depressing.


End file.
